Troubling Time Displacement
by Xazz
Summary: Altair, a legend, a man who for so long had been like the ultimate pinnacle an Assassin could reach and should be beyond the trivalries of the world was hungry.


This was originally part of something bigger, but I decided I liked it like this.

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The days previous had seen a massive downpour. The gutters ran fat with rivers of rain water and sludge, partially flooding some streets and the river Tiber had risen several inches. It had rained for three days without stop, sometimes boiling into thunder and lightning that cracked apart the sky. But for the most part it was just a heavy, pounding, unending rain that leeched the color out of the world. Few had ventured outside unless it was dire, confining themselves to their dry homes and even the guards stationed around the city had been greatly reduced, and rarely actually patrolled, but instead stayed cooped up under awnings or bridges to stay out of the rain and wet.

It had been a good few days for the Assassins honestly. The rain did not stop their comings and goings as they raced across rain slick roofs covered in oiled cloaks to keep off most of the wet and rain, hoods drawn low over their faces to keep the water off their faces and from seeping down their necks. There had been grumbling, and complaining, but they sucked it up, they were Assassins, and things like rain did not still their hand, for there was much to do and not even a day could be wasted.

But today the rain had stopped. Four days of rain and finally the sky blazed an unreal, pure, blue that almost hurt to look at. No clouds hovered overhead, and only the smallest wisps of cotton decorated the horizon with the promise of more sun to come. Rome had turned into a sauna. The hot sun overhead cooking the buildings and turned what remained of large puddles and clogged streets into invisible steam that clung to the very rock and made walking laborious. The Assassins finally retreated the first day of sun after three of them feinted while going about their business. It was too hot out, too humid, they could kill themselves in this weather, unlike the rain, which was just water.

Sitting idle was boring however. They all though so, and Ezio most of all. He wanted to go do something. But the weather, sunny, cloudless weather, kept them indoors. Oh the irony. Across the library some of the others were playing some sort of hand game. In the stacks two novices stood perhaps _too_ close together. But he wasn't their mother, if they wished to risk Machiavelli's wrath by defiling his books he would let them. He huffed a short sigh and toyed with his pen before making lazy marks on a piece of paper before him.

The Codex, one of the few things he'd managed to get back out of Monteriggioni after the attack, was sitting bound in front of him. Claudia had saved it from the rubble before following him to Rome, and he hadn't been able to stay angry at her for following him when she gave it to him. He had a feeling that had been the plan. While translated fully to the best of Leonardo's ability there were still parts that were… well they weren't quite right. Leonardo had said that the code was complex and while he _was_ a genius, even he could only solve so much of a code without a key and this code had been made by a master with multiple languages, only a few of which Leonardo was actually familiar with. So while a portion of the Codex had been uncoded there was still a greater portion that was still unknown. Whenever he was forced to remain indoors he would take it out, look at it, and try to see if he could see what Leonardo couldn't. He never had any luck of course, but it was worth a shot. Machiavelli often asked to look at it, as he had never visited Monteriggioni to see it. Ezio didn't let him though. It was all he had left and he did not want _anything_ to happen to it.

He snapped out of his musing when an assassin ran into the library, "Ezio!" he called, panting, sweat dripping from his face. The other man ran over to him and almost collapsed onto the desk.

"Good god man, breathe," Ezio ordered sternly, standing and put a hand on his back.

"Y-you have to come," he wheezed. "There is a man," he had to stop and gasp for air.

"A man?" Ezio's brows went up. The other assassin nodded and now the others in the library, even the two novices in the stacks, were looking at them. "Breathe, and then speak," he said, squeezing the man's shoulder.

He gulped air several more times before standing up strait, "You need to come. There is a man, he's causing trouble."

"What sort of trouble?"

"He… well, it started when we came upon a collection of guards."

"Yes," he said patiently.

"They were dead. But no one has been to the Antique district until our patrol. They were freshly dead."

"And?"

"We followed. We found more. Then we found him."

"Did he attack you?"

"No. He was speaking in Latin to us, yelling about something. I don't know. Dante is the one who speaks Latin at all well. They sent me to come get you. He said it was important."

Ezio frowned, "Do you know the name of this man?" he asked even as he ushered the other assassin out of the library, snatching up the Codex as he did so. The others looked like they wanted to follow, but they hadn't been ordered, so they stayed put. "Did you run here?" he asked.

"I took a horse to the island, but the bridge isn't safe for horses, water damage. I ran from there," he prattled out quickly. Ezio just nodded as they left the main headquarters. Almost at once Ezio felt himself start to sweat in the heat and humidity. He wanted to pull down his hood to help air the back of his neck and scalp, but he had a reputation to uphold, so he kept it up. They walked to the bridge and there was a novice waiting with two horses. He assumed before finding him the assassin had told a novice to hold his horse and get one for him, because the novice didn't mount up. "It isn't too far," the assassin said. "Just near the Colosseum."

"Then lets go then," Ezio said and kicked his horse into a swift trot. The other assassin quickly matched his speed.

—

It turned out that it was actually at the Colosseum. Since he'd been fetched the group on patrol who'd found the man had moved into the shade of the lowest arches of the Colosseum. They were sitting beneath an arch and out of the stifling sun. Ezio thought they had the right idea, it was too hot out to be in the full force of the sun.

As they approached one of the small group leapt to their feet and drew a short, curved, sword from between his shoulders. _"No, it's okay, they're friends,_" another said, also lurching to their feet, his words in Latin. The man with the sword was very obviously the strange one. And strange indeed he was.

He was shorter then Ezio by an inch or two and clothes like he'd never seen. He wore a long white robe over a pale grey tunic and darker breeches, a red sash was belted around his waist held there by several pieces of overlapping leather armor. A white beaked hood shadowed his face which wore a deep, suspicious scowl. He wore almost no armor other then the leather and a pair of matching dark scale-like vambraces with intricate knots of white pattern on the tops.

_"Yes, friends,_" Ezio agreed as he dismounted. His Latin was a bit rusty but he could speak it well enough.

_"You may be allies, but you are no friends of mine_," said the stranger, his voice had a darkness to it, the cadence was also strange. This man was clearly not from here, as if the clothes did not give it away.

_"Peace, peace,_" Ezio said walking into the shade of the arch, leading his horse by the reigns. "_You are a stranger here. Where do you hail from?_"

"_The Holy Land of the kingdom of Syria,_" the man said, his tone hard, unamused and unimpressed and very suspicious. _"I am told this is Rome."_

_"It is_," Ezio agreed.

_"Then I am surrounded by_," and then he said a word Ezio had never heard before, it clearly was _not_ Latin either. It took him a second to repeat it in his mind: infidels. He had no idea what that meant but it sounded bad.

_"No_," the other assassin, Dante, said quickly. _"We are your brothers. Fellow Assassins."_

_"You look like no Assassins I have ever seen,_" said the man.

_"Nor do you look like any we've seen,_" Ezio said. _"_How do you know he's an Assassin, Dante?" he asked the man.

"He carries a hidden blade Ezio," Dante said, _"Ezio wants to see your hidden blade, brother._"

There was a long moment of silence and then, with reservation, as if it was against his very nature to reveal it, he extended his left arm, palm up. It indeed held a hidden blade strapped to the underside of his arm, but it looked different from Ezio's, though he couldn't place how. At the very least it had a profound effect on it's wielder as the stranger was also missing a finger, his left ring finger. He thought of the Codex and how during Altair's time the sacrifice of a finger in service to the Brotherhood had been required, for the hidden blade did not work properly with all fingers, as it would cut your finger off if you didn't cut it off before. Altair had changed that and designed a hidden blade that not only did not require that sacrifice, but also a design to be worn on either hand, usually your non dominant one.

"_Do Syrian Assassins still cut off fingers? I thought that practice had died out long ago," _ Ezio said, confused.

The man's lips curled back from his teeth in a mocking sneer. _"Are you cotton headed? Only the youngest of our brothers have not had to mutilate themselves."_

_"You are a strange one brother,_" Ezio said gravely_, "That had not been the practice for hundreds of years."_

At that the man stiffened. Then he said something and pressed his right hand up to his mouth. Whatever he said though was lost for it was in a tongue none of them could speak. He looked very confused about something, and then angry. _"What is the year?"_ he asked suddenly. They looked between each other. It was a strange question. Surely this man should know the year. _"What. Is. The. Year?"_ he demanded now with the tone of someone used to being obeyed.

"_Fourteen hundred and ninety-nine of our Lord_," Dante supplied.

The man suddenly yelled, and everyone knew it was a curse, for only a curse could sound like that. He turned away from them and then proceeded to bang his head on the arch, still cursing. "What is he doing?" an assassin asked.

"I… don't know," Ezio said truthfully. He stepped up next to the man and put a hand on his shoulder. "_Brother, what is the matter?"_

The man gave a little strangled laugh and muttered to himself a moment before saying, _"I am not just in the wrong place. I am in the wrong time,"_ he seemed disgusted by this, even though he was smiling. Smiling through the rage. Ezio knew the feeling well.

"What?" he didn't understand.

_"Stupid novice,"_ he spat, _"Not that you would understand,"_ he slapped Ezio's hand away.

_"Brother, you should calm yourself. You speak to one of the leaders of the Order, show some respect,"_ Dante said carefully and glanced at Ezio. He didn't like being disrespected.

The man scoffed, _"Then we speak as equals,"_ he said firmly, _"For I am the Mentor."_

Dante looked at Ezio who's eyes narrowed a little. He was not yet Mentor, though many called him that. Machiavelli held that title. _"Well here you are not. So speak with respect,"_ Ezio said.

_"I do not having to listen to you old man,"_ he said, his mouth tight and Dante took a step back. Ezio took a deep breath from between his teeth._ "What I need to do is find a way back home, and out of this place,"_ he made a face.

_"Well for now you are stuck here _brother_, do you will have to manage,"_ Ezio growled. _"Now tell us, what is your name?"_

_"I would have your name first,_" he said right back.

_"I am Ezio Auditore da Firenze,"_ Ezio said proudly. _"Master Assassin of the Brotherhood."_

The stranger nodded, "_A fair trade ibn-Firenze,"_ he said, "_My name is Al Mualim Altair al-Umar ibn-La'Ahad, Mentor and Master of the Order of Assassins"_ he said and he had a feeling the man was staring right at him, though it was hard to tell with his hood up.

He blinked, _"Y-You are Altair?"_ he almost choked on his own words. That had not happened since he was a young man who couldn't even talk to girls without stuttering.

_"Yes, and that will be my name even when I'm dead,"_ he snapped. Irritated. Suddenly the rolled up Codex in the pouch at his side felt like it was made of lead.

"Ezio?" Dante asked, "What is it?"

"_You are Altair. _The _Altair_?" he demanded of the stranger who was claiming to be a legend.

The stranger leaned back, wary, "_I believe so_," he said slowly, carefully.

"_You…_" he caught himself. He could not show his enthusiasm here. It was improper. "_You are known in our time,_" he said, his voice cracked a little at the sudden change of pace.

"Ha," Altair seemed amused by this and Ezio couldn't believe that the man was standing before him. It was impossible. Everything about this _should_ have been impossible. Altair was dead, the fortress in Masyaf long since abandoned by the Order in their march west to current day Italy. A thousand and one questions leapt into his mind, things he wanted to ask the Master who had done so much in his life. He wanted him to meet Leonardo as well. This was the man who'd created a code that not even a genius could crack and—

There was a low rumble and the assassins looked between each other. When he looked at Altair he saw the man had an embarrassed look on his face and a hand on his stomach. _"I have not eaten in several days,_" he admitted sheepishly. Ezio just looked at him like he'd just been told the meaning of life. Altair, a legend, a man who for so long had been like the ultimate pinnacle an Assassin could reach and should be beyond the trivalries of the world _was hungry_.

He threw back his head and laughed. Though not cruelly, but openly amazed and joyful. _"That we can fix brother, the time displacement will have to wait till after lunch,"_ he said cheerfully. Dante was looking at him strangely, and the other Assassins like he was nuts. But that was okay, because for the first time time since they'd met Altair's lips quirked into something that was probably a smile.

-fin-

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That's it, there isn't any more; don't ask for more.


End file.
